The Mystery of Coincidences
by RedSatinLace
Summary: After Holmes death, John can't seem to get his mind off his friend, their cases, and his depression until one day a stranger, as down on her luck as him invites him to vent at a coffee house. Can they mend one another? And what happens when a dead friend really isn't...dead? Sherlock/OC


_Hello. I've recently become enamored with the BBC Sherlock show, having bought the complete works and amm in the middle of reading them I can't get enough. After seeing the moderized version- I'm hooked. And I have a little story I thought up. Just as to not confuse anyone, I began this with Johns blog, after the bold- it changed to our M.C. POV. Thank you. _

**_The Adventures of J.H.W. _**

**_Guardian Angel_**

_ I've never quite believed in coincidences, or fate for that matter. The thought we're meant to do something that's predetermined for us never tickled my fantasies in the least. Though these days, I find myself considering things I once thought to be absurd, and then trying to deduce my own thinking. Ah, the art of deduction. It's been over a year and I still find my mind unconsciously deducing everything around me like never before. Perhaps I'm trying to keep his memory alive- as though I could ever forget him. _

_ Listen to me, rambling on about someone you've all heard me ramble about for the past year. The few who still read this are probably ready to ring my neck. But if you find it in your hearts to read on, I'd like to tell you of a chance meeting I had today, one that may well have started my mind on the slow and steady track back to normalcy. Perhaps it was a coincidence, or perhaps there is a higher power after all, and he decided to bless me a guardian angel. _

_ I was taking a walk down to the Thames, the flat was getting to me again, and the cool autumn air seemed refreshing….. _

London was never this bleak in any of the photos online. In fact it was through those beautiful photos that I decided to chance running to London. Though just a jump away from my Ireland, it was still entirely different from what I was used to. The autumn air whipped my hair around, untangling the unruly mass from its tie, which it hurled across the street, the freed curls slapping me as I tried to wait for traffic to pass.

Seeing a break I sped across. Running had always been my forte. I ran for track in school, I ran from my parents when I was eighteen, and now, true to form, I was running again. Though this time I was running for good. It's liberating really, to feel free in your own life.

Dodging strangers on the walk I ducked under a teetering sign stating the local parks name. It was virtually free of anyone in this weather. The perfect time to come when your down and need some place to think. It's amazing how good one can feel when you stare at a desolate park for hours.

In the short time I've ventured out of my flat, I found this park to be the best so far. It had level land with a few trees, and a beautiful sitting area by the metal fence that lined the Thames. It's the last picture that sealed the deal for my move.

Turns out I wasn't the only one down on their luck. A man, no taller than myself stood leaning against the railing, looking out into the rolling waters. I smiled, as I stepped up next to him, taking a seat on my usual bench and watching the water as well. I couldn't tell how long we both stayed there, taking in the water and dwelling on our problems, but at some point my concentration was broke by a greater chill in the wind. My cheeks were red, I was positive, and my body craved for something warm. I glanced over at the fellow, his face looked as hollow as I felt, and I felt for him. No one wanted to feel like nothing.

"Hey, mate." I said my voice carrying with the wind. He turned, looking startled at first, then nodding towards me.

I smiled.

"I know this probably sounds odd, but what do you say we head down and grab something warm to drink. No one ever sits in wind like this unless they're really down- or homeless- and I figure, between the two of us, we could lift each others spirits." I paused, gauging his reaction, "Besides, no one wants to be miserable and alone."

We stood in silence for another few minutes before he made up his mind. Holding out his hand he said , "John Watson. Nice to meet you."

"Anna McRoyer. Let's go get some tea, and we'll see who's sob story tops out, shall we?"

He chuckled, "Sounds lovely."


End file.
